


Build It Up In A Technicolour Dream

by Glitchinthedark



Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [16]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves - Freeform, Blood, Captured, Drugs, Gen, Hallucinations, Kidnapped, klaus hargreeves - Freeform, tua - Freeform, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchinthedark/pseuds/Glitchinthedark
Summary: Words had morphed into strange combination of colour and sound, a strange awakening of synaesthesia turning everything into a living nightmare.
Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949950
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Build It Up In A Technicolour Dream

Sleep deprivation has many side effects: fatigue, confusion, hallucinations. The mind begins to atrophy as everything blurs, minutes blending to hours as the concept of time begins to melt away. The nightmares had already given Klaus a head start into the world of exhaustion, but whatever they were given by their captors was a whole new level. He and Allison had lost track of time since they had been captured but judging by the dull light cycles falling from the boarded windows, it was coming up on three days. 

It had been a normal Thursday afternoon for the most part. Klaus and Allison had been rummaging through thrift shops, looking for whatever awful clothing they could find to fulfil their competition of who could create the worst outfit combination. They had made it to three stores before they noticed the van following them up the roads, lingering outside the shops. At first Allison assumed it was paparazzi, they had stooped this low before, so it wasn’t a surprise. However, when they attacked them, knocked them out and dragged them to an undisclosed location, it became clear they were not just here for a photograph.

Approaching three days locked away in a small room, barely any contact, food or communication. Klaus had experience with being bound, although his talents were used in more relaxed, mostly consensual settings. The material differed on each part of the body, making it harder to escape quickly or with ease. His hands were bound behind his back with thin straps of hard material. Wiggling his fingers, he felt the tab ends that clasped around his wrists – zip ties. He could see the rope wrapped around his torso and legs, sealing him to the chair. The ropes were frayed, clearly old and misused for however long they had existed. Not the easiest to get away from, but with the degrading quality, they could probably break apart when considerable force was applied. His mouth was full of some type of cloth, as was his mouth. A gag, albeit a bad one. “Clearly these assholes have no knowledge of how to kidnap somebody” he thought to himself. Their captors didn’t seem too smart, especially if they had been caught before, meaning Allison was most likely bound by the same restrictions, unable to speak or use her power. For people so good at physical combat, it certainly seemed that they didn’t have a lick of common sense.

They hadn’t been able to sleep. They were injected with some sort of serum that amped up every nerve in the body, stimulating the brain and leaving them unable to rest. The feeling was similar to cocaine, if cocaine was 50 times worse and used as some form of torture device. Whatever it was also blocked his powers, he couldn’t call on any ghost or spirit to help him, but they still remained present. Lack of sleep always made the ghosts worse, building up their physicality’s in a kaleidoscopic hallucination until he didn’t know if they were truly there or made up in his mind. It wasn’t like there was anybody else who could tell him either. As the door opened and flooded light into the room, the shadows cast upon the walls began to dance, scratching down the walls as if they were trying to tear off the unsightly old wallpaper from the walls. A sharp sting across his face brought him somewhat back to reality as a voice became clear. Allison was still next to him, her eyeliner leaving a beautiful lacey pattern down her cheeks as she stared at her captor. Of all people to deserve this punishment, she wasn’t one of them. 

“One of you will die, but who should I choose?” The captor’s voice was deep, resonating baritone notes through the air almost causing the vibrations of his voice to become physical sights. “Locked up for 12 years because of you. If only you had minded your own business, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” His hair was dark and scruffy, matching the scratchy stubble starting to erupt across his chin. They had seen him before, but where? Their minds could barely differentiate colours from sounds, so his identity would have to remain a mystery.

Over their training, they had learned how to act in hostage situations, how to turn captors against each other and overpower them. It seemed the drugs they were administered threw all their training out of the window. Nothing made sense in their brains anymore, the small communication both siblings had with each other between meals was an incoherent mess of mumbles and sobs. Words had morphed into strange combination of colour and sound, a strange awakening of synaesthesia turning everything into a living nightmare. Straining his neck and face he attempted to loosen the cloth around his face. For what only took seconds felt like minutes as he managed to slip off the cloth and spit out the restraining gag, taking deep breaths as he was able to breathe with zero restraints.  
Now free from his facial binds he could shout out towards his captors: “Take me, it was me who said you should be put away!” It was a complete lie; he was only doing as Reginald told him. However, he couldn’t let Allison die. His life was worthless, a menial attempt at purpose drowned in drugs and alcohol. He didn’t deserve such a life and his sister certainly meant more to him. They wouldn’t answer to him, he had to make them listen. If only of them would die, he would make sure it was him, even if it was the last thing he ever did. He managed to strain his body, wiggling just enough to unbalance himself and topple to the floor as he desperately tried to wiggle towards the man. His movements seemed impossible, as if with every attempt to reach forward he only went back until he stopped moving all together. 

A ringing rang through the air, echoing through each second as it morphed into a high pitch scream, each rising note seeming as if it were impossible to continue before it did. Pain spread through each section of his brain, spreading through each of his veins, through every separate capillary in his body as red began to envelope his vision. Somewhere he thought he could hear screaming, a muffled grey horror that coagulated with the maroon streaks clouding his vision. It was almost beautiful, the way the cascading red began to desaturate and fade as it blended into the cold grey stone he lay upon. The streaks became a dull mirage of monochrome, becoming thinner as they moulded into shapes and lines. Like veins, like trees, the streaks began to formulate that of a forest, calm and serene yet void of any life within its roots. 

Among the monotone trees came a strange ringing in his ears. A beautiful, welcoming sound almost as free as his body from the bounds that were entrapping him seemingly almost moments prior. As his eyes continued adjusting, he noticed a figure blending perfectly with the desaturated surroundings he witnessed. He recognised this place, but he still couldn’t figure out how, his mind still betraying his ability to understand coherent thoughts. Through the unknown confusion he heard a light voice, a voice so strange it didn’t sound real, but it was there. Prominent against the monotony, adding radiant technicolour waves across his imagination. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tonsils are swelling more each hour. What a fun week this will be! Oh yeah also another long story.
> 
> Fic title quote:
> 
> Telekenetic - Starset


End file.
